


Inheritance

by eldritcher



Series: The Journal of Maglor [10]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:04:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritcher/pseuds/eldritcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elros is a brooding teenager, who wants to leave his heritage behind. He angsts over it, a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

Tall, broad-shouldered and tanned; I examined my reflection in the mirror curiously. Sparse hairs littered my chest and thighs, proclaiming my human blood. My skin was dark and rugged. From my navel, a funnel of thick hair descended onto my groin. As I contemplated the tumescent organ, I decided to test Elrond’s claim. 

He had burst into our chambers last week, dishevelled and clammy. Out of a babble of incoherent words, I could understand that he had accidentally walked upon a young soldier making love to a girl in the camp. He had felt himself harden at the sight and had been forced to stroke himself into release. After that, he had rushed to my side, scared and confounded by the experience. 

Maedhros and Ada were probably strict celibates and there had never been a conversation on the aspects of sex. But after Elrond’s experience, I was curious about the organ nestled between my thighs.

Idly, I ran a finger along the length of it. Something stirred in me. Heat? I decided to explore it later in the privacy of my chamber. It promised to be interesting. From what Elrond had told me, the results were sticky and wet. I did not fancy another bath right then.

“Are you done?” Ada asked me briskly as he strode into the chamber. I threw my clothes on hurriedly

“Yes, Ada.” I began drying my wet hair. 

“You are growing fast,” my foster-father remarked as he ran an eye over my tall frame, “You can start riding with our warriors soon, if you wish.”

My mixed lineage makes me grow faster. And I did not like that. I scowled at myself in the mirror. Ada chuckled as he saw my scowl.

 

“I asked the woman who helps Ada with the accounts; discreetly. She says that elves don’t feel all this till they are older,” Elrond said distractedly as I strode into the room.

“We have mixed blood. And it seems pleasant to do it. Don’t worry about it, brother.” I yawned as I joined him at the window.

A young human girl was sweeping the courtyard. The cleaving between her breasts seemed a particularly interesting area to get distracted by. That alien sensation rose in my groin again.

“You will get into trouble if you stare at every woman you come across.” Elrond shoved me playfully. “Come, we will be late for supper.”

I nodded and watched the girl for a while longer before I followed him into the corridor. I think I did detest Elrond for coming and announcing his first foray into self-pleasure. All my dreams were filled with nonsense and I would have cut off my right hand before ever narrating them to a living soul.

 

I was very happy. Maedhros had allowed me to accompany him on his ride south to trade with the Naugrim. I loved riding. Elrond had chosen to remain behind with our foster-father to help some men in the camp who had fallen sick. His love for healing and lore differed so much from my love for hunting and diplomacy. I wondered how we could have such varying tastes.

That night, I merrily retired from the boisterous crowd around the campfire and walked to Maedhros’s tent. There had been strict injunctions from Ada that I should not sleep in the open. 

“You are getting along well with our warriors.” Maedhros smiled as he entered an hour later.

I had already undressed and was now sprawled on the mattress, clad only in my breeches. He stared at me for a moment before clearing his throat.

“It is too hot,” I explained cheerfully, my good spirits heightened by the merry talk around the campfire.

“I agree.” He smiled, his grey eyes warm and friendly in the flickering torchlight. 

He removed his battle-armour, which he would always wear while riding. My newfound interest in physicality stirred as he began undoing his tunic with an incredibly dexterous left-hand. 

“I see you are in that tumultuous stage of puberty.” He chuckled as he noticed my gaze. “Are you as bold as this in staring at others too?”

I laughed at his easy realization and acceptance. He folded his tunic neatly and then placed it away. Throwing a simple robe over his leggings, he walked to my side and seated himself cross-legged beside me.

“I was curious,” I offered quietly as he quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

“Everyone is, when they reach that period of their lives. I have heard that my grandfather banned women from the vicinity of the palace while my father was in his puberty,” he said with a fond smile of wistful remembrance.

I tried not to imagine the legendary Fëanor stroking himself as I had been doing with increasing frequency lately.

“Did your father ban women when you were in your puberty?” I asked Maedhros, trying to erase the knowing twinkle in his grey eyes.

“He did not,” Maedhros laughed. “He was quite busy engendering more sons then. Our grandfather had to send my mother away lest my parents spent all their days in those activities.”

“He should have banned Lord Fingon the Valiant though,” I said irked by my companion’s easy grace.

His grey eyes narrowed and I hastily murmured an apology. It was a name that nobody spoke of in his presence. The warriors sometimes jested about the relationship that was rumoured to have existed between their lord and the fallen king, but never in Maedhros’s presence.

“My father certainly would have banned him if he had known of what would happen,” Maedhros spoke sardonically, his calm eyes measuring me.

“I am sorry,” I said contritely. “I really am.”

“It does not matter, but refrain from the topic when Macalaurë is present,” he spoke in a tone of finality. I held my silence.

 

“What do you think?” I asked my brother as we sparred lazily.

“Nothing.” He raised an eyebrow in an Ada-like manner. “You were insane to bring the high-king’s name into the conversation.”

“He was not angry.” I shrugged. “He was more concerned about making me swear that I would not mention the king’s name when Ada is present.”

“Maybe they both fancied the high-king once and the king chose Maedhros,” Elrond ruminated distractedly as he parried one of my moves.

“Not good enough. Your theory will not hold. Ada is not the sort of person to moon over someone unrequitedly,” I told him as he launched an offensive blow.

“Then,” he backed me against a tree neatly, “maybe Ada is against the concept of males loving males. He is married, after all.”

“Will not do.” I ducked from his hold and began a counter-attack. “He is a Fëanorion. You know that they are not bound by such outdated superstitions. I believe that Fëanor himself might have taken a tumble or two with someone. Can you imagine all that fire being satisfied by one woman?”

“If there was love, yes.” Elrond threw down his sword and sprawled on the dewy grass. “But I have no wish to speculate on that.”

“Well, why then would Ada dislike their cousin?” I yawned as I sat beside him and plucked the grass shoots restlessly.

“Maybe he detested that he had to marry and sire heirs since his brother and cousin chose the other path,” Elrond murmured sleepily. “Ask him directly, brother. How am I supposed to know about the complex workings of a bard’s mind?”

“He does not have an heir yet.” 

My words were sad, because I regretted that we basked in our guardians’ love while Ada had not even seen his daughter. Many a time, we had seen him watch young girls wistfully, his eyes filled with yearning. 

“We are elves. Have all eternity to make heirs.” Elrond’s words were eerily calm.

This question on eternity was a growing cause of arguments between us and his irritation signalled that yet again. Under normal circumstances, I never debate with my brother. But immortality was a topic that I felt most strongly upon.

“Eternity is not all happiness, brother. Indeed, for many, it is an unending thraldom.” My words were sharper than I had intended. My brother narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I beg to disagree. I understand that you admire the humans for their lack of fear in love and judgment. But death, a complete sundering, what can be possibly attractive in that?” he asked me angrily.

“Death is not an end. It can never be an end to what a soul is,” I argued passionately. “And do you say that an eternal life is better? Think of the Noldor! They are doomed, our House! What do we have to look forward to? We cannot return to the west! We are condemned to the Void!”

“If death is not an end, brother, then surely the Void too can never be an end,” Elrond said flintily, his eyes steel.

I did not reply as I tried to make an argument against his perfectly reasonable statement. He said in quieter tone, “I understand your yearning towards men. But it is not something you should choose merely because you are afraid to face the Void.”

“I am not afraid of the Void!” I shouted at him, fury rising in me like an inferno. He raised his eyebrows in sardonic displeasure at my raised voice.

“NOTHING; NOTHING will ever redeem immortality if all that waits at the end is the Void. Men are more courageous. They do not tarry with their lives and they do not fear judgment. Whereas the immortals are merely fighting a long defeat!” My words resounded in the courtyard as my hands balled into fists.

“That is quite enough!” Ada’s voice was disturbed as he strode between our panting forms. “Elrond, please go inside. Elros, walk with me.”

“I do not wish to walk with you!” I exclaimed scowling. Elrond had turned on his heel and left, his features still set in a superb scowl.

Ada raised an eyebrow. I cursed in the tongue of the Dwarves and accompanied my foster-father. He hummed under his breath as we climbed a goat-path in the hills. I had braced myself for a fiery tirade, but he seemed quite relaxed and unperturbed. The anger drained out of me as we walked. It was replaced by a sad feeling; I did not belong here. I did not belong with the immortals.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered as I stopped walking and gripped his wrist plaintively. “I don’t understand it at all, Ada.”

“I don’t understand it myself.” He smiled sadly as he embraced me, his eyes shining with the realization that I would choose the path of Lúthien. “I wish it was not so.”

“I will never regret it,” I swore as I buried my face in his robes, clenching his arms with desperate strength. “Never!”

He pulled my chin up so that our eyes met. “There is no purpose in regret once you have chosen a path.” 

His murmur made me collapse against his form in a mass of dry, heaving sobs. He held me tightly, whispering in his golden voice that it was all far in the future and that I should not think of it now.

“If you had known back then in Tirion that your lives would be like this if you followed your father, what would you have done?” I asked bitterly.

“Followed him, I would have followed him all the same.” He spoke firmly, his voice free of regret and sadness. “What are we but a sum of our fathers’ deeds? Your father is a star of hope. And your brother and you shall be stars of hope to elves and men.”

“Do you fear the Void?” I asked him frightened by his delineation between Elrond and me; between elves and men. He knew.

“No, I know that I will not be alone there.” He smoothed back my hair tenderly. “I know that even the Void will be broken one day. Eternity is not forever. Nothing is forever.”

I nodded slightly dubious at his optimism. He smiled saying, “I do think that it shall be an eventful puberty in the household.”

I could not help my laughter as his teasing gaze roved over me. 

“Thank you,” I said sincerely as we walked back towards the castle.

“Never fear anything, Elros. Be proud. Be what you are, a prince of The House of Finwë. Everything else is immaterial.” His melodious voice was steely in conviction.

And I resolved to be always proud and strong. I would never bow before defeat or cringe in fear, for I am a prince of our house.

 

 

“One of our warriors is in love with a Sylvan woman.” Elrond’s tone held a measure of contempt. He shared Ada’s dislike of the Sylvan races.

Maedhros gave a mild glare to signal his displeasure. I smiled at Elrond knowingly. Maedhros’s fabled lack of prejudice was the favourite joke in the household. Ada cleared his throat and leant forward.

Maedhros leant back hastily remarking, “I know, Macalaurë. There are many races and not all can be equally trusted. Please, I beg you, do not lead me through a debate on that and finally remind me of my folly in trusting Uldor. I concede defeat.”

Ada raised his goblet of wine triumphantly to Elrond, who laughed and mirrored the gesture. But I was thinking of something else that had been preying on my mind.

“What of love for the same gender? Is that worthy of prejudice?” I leant forward frowning.

“No,” Elrond said promptly. “Love is love, and it does not deserve prejudice. Uldor’s matter was different.”

“I agree,” Ada joined quietly. “Love is above prejudice, judgement and societal norms. My brother,” he bestowed a teasing glance on Maedhros, “has a simple slogan that he never fails to proclaim when we discuss such things.”

“Must you remind me?” Maedhros grumbled as he retreated further against the chair glaring at us over his goblet.

“The laws of the Gods cannot rule the passions of our hearts.”

The simple statement as Ada spoke it in his musical tone warmed me. I met Elrond’s gaze over the table. He smiled sincerely. Little did I know then that it was a statement that would resound in my mind even after I had sailed to Númenor. It would be the single principle of my life till my death centuries after. 

But during that supper, I had laughed and asked Ada, “Was that a statement he made up merely to justify his passions?”

Maedhros groaned and spoke derisively, “I had to make up that statement since those I lived with led illicitly passionate lives.”

We had retired in merry spirits. I remember that I had taken a walk in the woods after the supper to clear my thoughts. I had been broken out of my musings when I heard a low, primal moan somewhere from the thickets. I had unsheathed my knives and strode into the woods worriedly.

And I had been thrown into pure shock when I saw them. Two magnificent untamed creatures of fire, burning each other with passionate touches. The white skin of the Noldor race shone against the damp, brown earth. I could see each bone and sinew straining against the skin. Fingers gouged in the soil, seeking something to hold. Crimson and black hair intermingled to form a riot of colours. 

I closed my eyes and walked back to the castle.

 

 

“Why must you be alone? Come with me to Númenor!” I begged him as we argued on the seashore.

My brother had not come. He was too ravaged by grief and had chosen to stay back in the palace of Lindon, broken and devastated. The life of an immortal would be something that drew a great price from him. It had already begun claiming the cost.

“I need to be alone,” my foster-father said calmly, his eyes black as the leather I wore. “Alone with my music.”

“I know why you are doing this! He wouldn’t want you to do this!” I exclaimed angrily as I gripped his shoulders. 

His eyes widened at my words. I rushed on. “I knew it from early on. I thought I should never tell you. And now...”

“And now that he is dead, it doesn’t matter?” He examined his Silmaril-scarred fingers thoughtfully.

“Listen, Ada!” I fell on my knees before him. “Please do not isolate yourself. You have Elrond to think of. You have your daughter and your son to think of.”

“Cìrdan and Ereinion will take care of my children. I serve no purpose to anyone. My oath is done.”

“Done?” I asked wide-eyed as he raised me back to my feet.

“Yes, Russandol...” He averted his eyes as his voice broke down on the word. “He thought that the oath involved returning the force of nature to nature. To the air, as your father did. To the water as I did. To the fire...as he did. The oath is done in Eru’s eyes.”

“But the Herald of the Valar told us that the oath is unfulfilled, that the family is condemned to the Void!” I shouted in despair. That had been what had made finally choose a mortal life; I feared the void.

“The Valar would do nothing less. They like the idea of our family rotting in the void.” A familiar cynicism rose in my companion’s eyes.“But that does not mean that we are dishonourable. By blood, sweat and tears, we have fulfilled the oath. It is done.”

“And what remains?” I asked bitterly.

“Memories. The sun of my life has truly set.” His eyes shone with grief as he turned away from me and walked along the seashore, his golden voice rising clearly in song.

I went down on my knees and held my bowed face in my hands, fighting the shuddering sobs that rose in me. As if reading my thoughts, the golden voice began singing of pride and courage.

“Come with me, brother.” 

Elrond’s voice was broken as he knelt beside me and tugged my hands away from my face. His face was harrowed by grief as he watched the silhouetted figure against the setting sun that sung of hope and love.

“I had to see him one last time,” Elrond whispered quietly.

As the sun descended in a red blaze over the sea, we watched the only parent we had known walk out of our lives. 

“I did not think that his brother’s death would cripple him so. He has family left,” Elrond said quietly.

“I am only surprised that he did not follow his brother into death. One day, you will realize their hold over each other,” I said noncommittally. He looked at me curiosity lighting his features.

“Promise me that you will always be as proud and fearless as they were, come what may,” I begged my brother who would be condemned to the family doom.

“Not unless you promise me the same,” he laughed sadly. 

I embraced him. I could feel his heart beat against mine frantically. 

We embraced again before I boarded the ship to the new land. A flash of foresight pounded my heart. I sighed; I would never envy my brother’s choice. I could only hope that he had the courage to bear his trials.

And I raised my hand in farewell as the ship sailed out, leaving my brother a solitary figure on the shores of Mithlond.

* * *


End file.
